


The Show Must Go On

by Ephemeral_Joy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School Musical Fusion, Angst, F/M, Fluff, High School Musical - Freeform, References to Teen Wolf (TV), Scallison, Stydia, but it's a stydia au as troy and gabriella in hsm1, hsm, it's 19K please give it a try, no supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-25 21:36:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12044760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ephemeral_Joy/pseuds/Ephemeral_Joy
Summary: The Stydia High School Musical AU no one asked for, but here I am, delivering.Following the plot of High School Musical 1, with Lydia as Gabriella and Stiles as Troy.





	The Show Must Go On

**Author's Note:**

> So, in the beginning of June I got a prompt from Stydia-Fanfiction to write this. I wrote it, but it never got published (probably because it was full of spelling mistakes and it was just - - - shit.) So, here it is, edited and perfected into something I enjoy, and hopefully you enjoy it as well. 
> 
> Disclaimers: It will be a bit OOC for all the characters as they needed to fit the storyline.   
>  I love Malia, but I made her Sharpay because that worked best. I'M SORRY ALRIGHT.   
>  I saw that movie... so many times to perfect this. Safe to say I will not see that movie for the following decade.

‘Lydia!’  
Startled, she looked up at her mom. ‘What?’  
‘Get dressed, you’re going to that party.’  
Lydia glanced at her grey joggers and sweater. It was New Year’s Eve, sweatpants wasn’t really the appropriate attire.  
‘Fine,’ she grumbled, ‘but I’m bringing my book with me!’ she added defiantly. Lydia was currently reading some romance book where you didn’t need to think about anything. Quite nice for a change, usually her head was filled with numbers and letters.  
Natalie rolled her eyes and nodded, leaving the girl alone on the sofa. Lydia smiled with a cocky grin at her retreating back whilst she turns a page. Wouldn’t hurt to read another chapter.  

Meanwhile, in the same building, Stiles was holding his stick up in the air, awaiting balls from his dad. With a professional wrist, Noah threw the ball towards his son, which the boy easily caught. He had almost caught them all.   
‘Stiles,’ his dad suddenly interrupted, puffing slightly.  
Stiles frowned, ‘What? Am I holding my stick wrong?’  
He shook his head, grabbing a white towel, ‘No, but we need to stop. The kids party, remember?’  
He raised his eyebrows, ‘Kids party.’  
‘Young adults. Just, please do something social for one time.’   
The tall boy grinned at his dad, wiping sweat of his brow, ‘Why are we even at a resort anyway? You’re just going to be the lonely amidst all the elderly.’  
Noah put up a wry smile, sighed, putting his hands on his hips, ‘Did you want to stay in Beacon Hills?’  
Without answering, Stiles collected all the fallen balls and places them in his gym bag, alongside several sticks. ‘I’ll get ready.’  
Stiles had rather stayed in Beacon Hills.

*

Lydia was wearing a short, floral romper (quite a change from the MIT tee she liked to wear), stockings and heeled boots. She felt pretty. Not that she would walk up to someone and strike a conversation. God no, she didn’t know any of these people. With that, she sat down on a recliner and opened her book again on the page she had stopped an hour ago.

Instead of his sweaty jersey and gym shorts, Stiles replaced it for a plaid flannel, cappuccino trousers and tennis shoes. He looked quite handsome, he knew, because a girl had complimented him the moment he walked in the recreation centre. Naturally, he didn’t know how to respond and had scrambled together the word “S-sure!”. He rolled his eyes at the memory. Good job, Stiles.  
He quickly blended in with some boys, standing on the side and away from the mess of people in the middle.   

A boy and a girl, dressed fancily, were singing and moving their hips to the beat. It wasn’t a great song, very poppy and played on repeat for months. Lydia scrunched her nose and scoffed. Just because it was in the Top 40 didn’t mean it was good.  
Eventually, it ended and they bowed. Both Lydia and Stiles didn’t pay attention to it. Well, Lydia made mental notes, like “If she had warmed up she could’ve gotten the high notes” and “If he combed his hair back, or simply got a haircut, he could be hot. Emphasis on the word _could_.”

‘Okay, great job,’ the host walked back on stage as the two teens descended and got back to their friends, yelling what a “crazy experience” that was and posting something on their Twitter about it.

‘Who are the next lucky singers?’, no one raised their hands, shying away from the stage, ‘C’mon don’t be shy!’ The host shrugged as no one responded, simply flicking a switch.  
Two white beams skated across the room, landing on a flustered Lydia (who was about to find out who Meaghan’s secret admirer was) and a confused Stiles.   
‘What? Oh no, I’d rather not-‘, Lydia began, trying to get back to her seat. Ignoring her actions, people led her towards the stage.   
‘I don’t sing,’ Stiles laughed awkwardly, ‘I can’t sing,’ he repeated, but they didn’t listen, pushing him on the stage.   
‘Hey you know what,’ the blonde host stood between the two strangers, them very uncomfortable. Lydia fingered the hem of her shorts. Stiles rather had the lacrosse field. ‘Someday you might thank me for this… or not.’   
Stiles glared at the guy, as he jumped of stage with a content look on his face before starting the song. Lydia balled her hands, they weren’t even allowed to pick a song! And she wasn’t ready to sing again! She tried to ease her nerves unnoticeably, hoping the guy next to her didn’t catch that. He glanced at the redhead, but she stared at her boots, not daring to look up. The first tunes echoed in the room. Stiles sighed, grabbing the mic and focusing on the words.

_Living in my own world  
Didn't understand  
That anything can happen  
When you take a chance_

His lips formed a downwards smile, his sign that he was going to descend the stage. But then she opened her mouth.

_I never believed in_ _  
What I couldn't see  
I never opened up my heart  
To all the possibilities_

To his surprise, she jumped in. Even a bigger shock, the girl actually had a nice voice. It was raspy and clear.  
Lydia trembled inside, she did not like this. Her actions were always calculated, not this!   
Stiles joined in. He smiled, this was going to be fun!  
  
_I know, that something has changed_ _  
Never felt this way  
And right here tonight_

He grabbed the mic tightly. The chorus was his favourite part.

_This could be the start  
Of something new_

He glanced at her and Lydia’s eyes quickly flitted over him. Her shoulders were still tense, but it also felt… nice. She felt deliberated.  
_  
It feels so right  
To be here with you, oh  
And now  
Looking in your eyes_

They met eyes again, and now he could clearly see the beautiful, forest green colour of her irises. She gave him a small smile, one that shone amusement. Stiles ignored the little jump in his chest.   
  _  
I feel in my heart  
The start of something new._

The beat picked up, and Stiles got loose. The bridge always held the best part. Stiles jokingly unbuttoned one button of his shirt, and the crowd hollered.

_Now who'd have ever thought that  
We'd both be here tonight  
oh, yeah_

Lydia beamed. Her eyes shining and hips swaying.

_And the world looks so much brighter  
With you by my side_

She belted out the words, she hadn’t used her voice out of fear of getting booed at for months. It felt great to get the strain out of them.

_I know that something has changed,  
Never felt this way,  
I know it for real..._

They continued singing, Lydia twirled around him and he naturally started gravitating towards her. She smiled at him, wholly, and he almost forgot to sing.

At the last chorus, their chests almost touched, and Lydia needed to look up at him with her five foot three. Stiles’ voice slightly wavered at the last words, completely lost in the song and her mesmerising eyes.

They exhaled the nerves out of their body, eyes still dancing over the other’s face. The audience clapped for the two and they separated a bit, breaking the spell. It was as if Lydia came out of a dream, suddenly realising the earth was still spinning around the sun and that the femur was the strongest bone in the body.

‘Stiles,’ the boy introduced himself.   
‘Lydia,’ the girl smiled, shaking his hand.

*

‘You have a really nice voice,’ Stiles complimented Lydia as they walk outside, away from the loud room full of colourful streamers and fairy lights. Older people, twenty somethings, stood outside, smoking into the cold snowy night. Snowflakes got stuck in Stiles’ quiff and Lydia’s curls.

‘Thank you,’ she pursed her lips into a smile, ‘I was in choir for a few years, but I’ve never done something like this. I tried once, but fainted! One second I’m staring at the audience and then… I was on the ground.’   
He chuckled at her story, pulling his jacket tighter around his torso. It was colder than he thought.   
‘Have you ever sung?’ She asked, wanting to keep the conversation going. It’s not every day for Lydia Martin to come in contact with an attractive guy like Stiles. The guys she knew in her past schools weren’t really blessed with their looks.   
‘Yeah, my shower loves my voice,’ Stiles joked, easing into the conversation. He could do this. This was normal. Just ignore the fact that she is very pretty, Stiles chanted to himself.  
Lydia grinned, slowly letting the silence take over. It was nice.

‘Ten!’, was heard from inside, with people stumbling outside to watch the fireworks.

‘Nine. Eight.’

Lydia saw Stiles watching her in her peripheral vision. If this was a movie, she would kiss him. As that wasn’t the case, she gave him a small smile and waited for the fireworks to come.

‘Seven. Six.’

Stiles stared at the night sky, there are hardly any stars visible because of the lights, but he still found the endlessly and infinite of it all calming. When he had panic attacks he usually thought of a dark sky with crisp air and a million burning stars. A safe place, his psychologist had told him. His safe place was the universe.

‘Five. Four.’

Lydia bit her lip, feeling excited. _A new year_. Although she wasn’t one to make resolutions, as they thought they were dumb and meaningless, she did hope that perhaps…

‘Three.’

maybe…

‘Two.’

this year would be great.

‘Happy New Year!’ Everyone screamed and laughed and hugged and kissed. Their hearts leaped at the first boom of bursting colour in the inky darkness. It left her breathless.   
Lydia tapped him on the shoulder. ‘I should probably wish my mom a happy new year.’  
‘Yeah me too,’ he flushed red, ‘I mean, not your mom, my… dad.’  
He coughed. ‘I’ll text you. Tomorrow!’  
Her eyes widened, taking her chances, ‘Yeah! Give me your phone.’  
The couple exchanged phones, both making a selfie to put as a photo next to their number.  
‘Thanks,’ she put her phone back into her purse, wanting to say something else. Instead, she made her way through the crowd in search for her mom.

‘Just so you know,’ Stiles looked at her picture, smiling, ‘singing with you was the most fun I’ve had on this vacation,’ he shook his head, ‘So, um… where do you live?’ He glanced to his side, only discovering that she wasn’t standing there anymore and he was making a complete fool out of himself. They probably thought he was losing his mind. He unlocked his phone again, squinting at the dark picture of her. Her red hair and glowing green eyes stood out.   
‘Lydia,’ he murmured, an orange blast spearing through the air.

* * *

 

He stared at his phone, should he text her? She probably doesn’t even remember him. He bit his lip. It was worth a shot, right? Just as his thumb hovered over the call button, his dad jumped into his room. Stiles was surprised, it’s been a while since he was that energetic.   
‘Wanna play?’   
‘Uh, yeah, sure,’ he stood up, grabbing a tee, ‘be right there.’  
He forgot about his phone. 

As Lydia was reading, she got a notification on Facebook she was tagged in a photo. It was her, and Stiles. On stage. She smiled at the memory, hands taking her to his number. Lydia deflected the thought of calling him. He probably didn’t even remember her. Lydia went back to her book.

* * *

Stiles Stilinski got out of the bus with a jump in his step. He never particularly enjoyed school, but lacrosse made it better, and it was just nice seeing everyone again after two weeks. His smile broadened when he saw Scott. “What’s up, Scotty!?”

He hugged his proclaimed brother Scott McCall, said  boy immediately ranting about the championship that’s going to happen in a month. They walked through the front doors, nearly getting run over by Malia and her brother Liam. Scott and Stiles split in two as the red sea as they passed.  
Scott hollered, ‘The ice queen is back in business!’ The team behind them laughed.   
Stiles heard the science team gossip about them. Probably making them out for baboons. Allison wasn’t exactly subtle.   
‘Come on, let’s go to Blake’s class. We don’t wanna be late.’ Scott said, already running. Stiles followed up, lacrosse stick juggling behind him.

*

‘Mom, I feel ill,’ Lydia complained whilst clutching her stomach. Her eyes flitted around the broad halls of her new school.  
‘It’s normal to be nervous,’ Natalie reassured her. Lydia huffed.   
‘I do not get nervous,’ she interfered, holding her chin high. Natalie gave her a tight lipped smile, easily seeing through the façade.   
‘You’ll go great. You always do.’ She stopped Lydia, holding one finger up at the principle behind them.   
‘I made my company promise I won’t be transferred until you graduate. So, no more hopping from school to school.’ It calmed Lydia down a bit, knowing she was able to actually make friends. But there was one problem in her mind like a parasite that wouldn’t go away all winter break.   
‘I don’t want to be the school’s insane genius girl again.’ Lydia was quite preppy and popular at her old school, but when it got leaked she had an IQ higher than 170, they started treating her badly. She liked the fact that she was able to be herself, but the stares and gossips weren’t great.  
Natalie cupped her cheeks, ‘Just be Lydia,’ and kissed her forehead. After that, Lydia was left alone in the wild, dark jungle of a new school she would hopefully not fall prey to.

Students filled the classroom, Lydia standing at the front for a minute. This must be it, and if not, she could always ask the teacher for the correct homeroom. Lydia entered the class and handed over the papers she’d gotten from the principle to her flamboyant teacher. She wore all black but funky shoes. The classroom had props and posters from musicals and Shakespearian plays.  
‘Excuse me,’ she mumbled, passing a tall girl with blonde locks who blocked the way. She found a seat at the back of the room. A few stares came her way (she blamed it on the hair), but she challenged them with a glare and took her pencil case out of her purse.   
‘Ah, I trust you all had splendid holidays!’, the teacher announced as the last warning bell goes off, ‘Check the sign-up sheets for new activities in the lobby – mister Stilinski.’ His head jerked towards the cynical voice of the teacher and he smiled sheepishly, sitting on his chair in the proper manner and not completely turned towards the back. He swore he saw Lydia. Was it her?  
‘You okay?’ Scott whispered behind him, giving Stiles the opportunity to look again. It’s her. What the hell?   
‘Yeah…’  
  
As their teacher droned on about theatre and mathematics, he sneaked up his phone and looked at her picture to double check.  
It’s her.  
Oh my God, she’s here. His body went rigid, sneaking a glance behind him.  
His thumb accidentally slipped over the touchscreen on the call-button and her phone starts ringing obnoxiously.  
Shit, she forgot to put it off. Lydia frowned, who in hell would call her during school hours?   
Other people took out their phone, seeing if theirs that went off.   
Blake sighed, ‘The phone _menace_ has returned to our crucible of learning!’, she took an empty – and luckily clean – paint can and let several people drop their phone in, calling them out for detention. Complaints from everywhere rose up. Stiles sunk in his chair. Fuck.   
‘Martin,’ she snapped, ‘cell phones are not allowed in our school. Detention.’ Lydia’s mouth fell slack and dropped the phone into the pot. She never had detention before! Great. That pep talk from her mom wasn’t exactly helping.

‘You too, Stilinski. Detention.’ Stiles placed his device inside, groaning internally. Finstock was going to kill him.   
‘Sorry,’ Scott put on his “I would be a great son-in-law”-face and explained, ‘but we need Stiles for practice, miss Blake.’  
‘Then thirty minutes of detention to you too, mister McCall.’  
Scott whined, placing his head on the table.  
Allison snorted, ‘Can he even count that high?’   
‘Allison Argent, fifteen minutes!’ The girl gasped and her eyes widened. Scott smirked at her.    
‘Holidays are over, people! Way over!’, miss Blake yelled, crossing her arms. Lydia rolled her eyes. Jesus, how could someone be worked up so easily?  
‘Now,’ she continued, a snide grin on her face, ‘any more comments, questions?’  
Everyone was silent. In Lydia’s peripheral vision she saw a guy with a bad haircut raise his hand.   
‘Greenberg?’  
‘How were your holidays, Miss Blake?’

*

As the bell rang, Lydia observed the boy that stood up in front of her. She recognised that quiff.

Stiles awaited her next to the door, fixing the collar of his flannel. He bumped Scott’s shoulder as a way of goodbye and right at that time, she came out of the classroom.

‘Hey!’, Stiles touched her shoulder, stopping her in the hallway.   
She smiled, ‘Would you look at that, my one and only karaoke partner,’ Lydia teased.   
Stiles felt lost, ‘But how… how are you here?’  
‘My mom’s company transferred her here to Beacon Hills,’ she looked at the posters on the wall, ‘I can’t believe you live here.’  
‘That’s crazy,’ he whispered, leading her through the school with his hand on the small of her back.   
She frowned, ‘Why are you whispering?’  
He laughed awkwardly. Damn it, Stiles. He bumped into a person, ‘Ah – sorry – I don’t know – well, my friends know about the snowboarding but I haven’t told them about the – y’know – singing thing.’  
Lydia nodded, the voice of Stiles going to the background, and browsed through the papers she’d received from the school. The campus was way bigger than the school she was in before. There was a massive lacrosse field (she quickly discovered it was a “thing” here, as girls were wearing their boyfriend’s jerseys and most of the posters were about the sport), a grand auditorium and even a swimming pool. Quite expensive for a school in a town nobody had ever heard of.

She took an abrupt turn to the left, and heard Stiles scramble behind her. Lydia chuckled, what a puppy.   
Stiles could only smile at her retreating back. All the girls at his school knew him as the lacrosse player, and wore burgundy to impress him. Yet she came to school with her ginger hair, brighter than he could remember, and a green, floral dress. It was new. Fresh.

‘So,’ he caught up with her, ‘anyway, welcome to Beacon Hills High.’ Stiles glanced at the corkboard with the sign-up sheet for the musical.  
‘Wanna sign up? Blake is such a joy,’ his voice was laced with sarcasm.   
Lydia merely smiled, ‘I won’t be signing up for anything in a while. Junior year is hard enough as it is.’ She lied straight through her teeth, and he seemed to buy it. Good.  
‘But if you sign up,’ she continued, her voice a bit raspy as she got an octave higher, ‘I’ll consider coming to the show.’  
‘Yeah, yeah,’ he shook his head, ‘that’s completely impossible.’ Truly, it was. When did his dad not push him to practice more?

Suddenly, Malia, tall and confident, appeared from around the corner, startling Stiles and Lydia. She rose her eyebrows, was that girl just standing there the entire time?   
‘What’s impossible, Stiles?’, she asked, smirking, her arm leaning against the wall. Lydia eyed the girl with one eyebrow raised. What. The holy hell. Is that?   
‘I wouldn’t think “impossible” is even in your vocabulary,’ the blonde continued. Stiles nodded in an awkward manner, avoiding eye contact with Malia. He knew she kind of liked him. He just hadn’t had the courage to tell her it’s not going to work.   
Malia’s eyes fell on Lydia, and the ginger felt like she was being scrutinised under a microscope.   
‘How nice of you to show our new classmate around,’ venom spewed of her lips, as she turned around and quickly wrote her name of the sign-up sheet in big, cursive lettering. Lydia was amused, she couldn’t believe these girls actually existed in real life. She’d been to many, many schools (she had lost count), but the mean girl stereotype hasn’t been categorised in her mind as types of pupils.   
Malia turned around, surprised, ’Oh, did you also wanna sign up? My brother and I played in all the school productions, but we welcome newcomers,’ Malia had an air of arrogance around her, and if this was sophomore year, Lydia had wanted to be her best friend.  
Powerful and confident until people may even fear you, that was what she wanted. But after moving so much, it wasn’t worth it anymore. She’d be gone in six months, anyway.  
‘There are a lot of supporting roles in the show, we’ll find something for you,’ the girl crossed her arms, ending her sarcastic monologue. Stiles rolled his eyes heavily, he had enough of her.  
‘Sweetie, pull back the claws. I’m not here to sing,’ Lydia answered in a fake, sugary sweet tone, one that surprised both Stiles and Malia.  
Lydia smiled, edging closer to the blonde, ‘Nice penmanship.’

Rule number one: “Always leave an impression”, Lydia smirked satisfied as she left them behind.

Damn, Stiles thought, that was unexpected.

*

‘So, Scotty,’ Stiles started, playing with the cords of his lacrosse stick, ‘you know that school musical thing… you get extra credit if you audition.’ The thought of playing in the musical has crept in the back of Stiles’ mind all day. He did like singing on stage back in the resort.   
Scott frowned, stopping mid-stretch, ‘Who cares?’  
Stiles tried to reason, a flail with his arms to get more power behind his words.  
‘It’s good to have extra credit. Y’know, for college.’ Yes, that was a good excuse, Stiles. He was proud.  
Scott scoffed, standing upright, ‘Do you think Jim Brown and Mikey Powell auditioned for their school musicals?’  
Stiles shrugged, smile edging at his lips, ‘Maybe.’   
His friend laughed, ‘Stiles, they do musical songs, nothing that we listen to, like rock. It’s like,’ he scrunched his nose, ‘show music. And costumes and make-up.’  
Stiles squinted his eyes, remembering something, ‘You looked pretty handsome with a glittery butterfly painted onto your face when you were seven.’  
Scott huffed frustrated, ‘We don’t talk about that!’   
Stiles guffawed, and just as he was about to try a second time, Scott went to the group.   
He sighed, clapping his hands, ‘Alright, Cyclones, pair up!’

*

Lydia liked silence. Hallways were buzzing, students were constantly talking, but there were those rare moments in class were it was complete peace. No sound, just the hypnotising sound of pens scratching on paper and the clicking of pens. She loved it.   
She looked up to the board, continuing writing the equation without looking down. After hours of practising, she had mastered it.   
‘So,’ Malia whispered next to her, tapping her arm and irrupting the silence as if a bubble snapped. Lydia’s hand clenched around her pencil. What did she want?   
‘Seem like you knew Stiles Stilinski.’  
She smiled slightly, what a ridiculous name.  
‘Not really. He was just… showing me around.’ Lydia wasn’t about to go flaunting she sung with him in the resort. After a quick observation of Malia’s behaviour, she knew how she would react.   
Malia scoffed, ‘Well, Stiles doesn’t usually talk to new students.’  
Lydia hardly focused on her senseless chatter, more so on the equation on the board that was going horribly wrong. How could she, this teacher who’s supposedly has a master’s degree, not see her mistake? It was right in front of her face!   
‘Why not?’, Lydia murmured, glancing at her notes to find fix the problem.   
‘Well, it’s pretty much lacrosse twenty-four seven with him,’ meaning he can be a complete asshole, Lydia read between the lines.   
‘That should be sixteen over pi,’ Lydia mumbled, in her peripheral vision she could see Allison look up, staring at her.   
Ms. Flemming glanced at Lydia. ‘Yes, miss Martin?’   
‘My calculation may be wrong but,’ it wasn’t, ‘shouldn’t that be sixteen over pi?’  
The teacher grimaced, ‘Sixteen over pi? That can’t be…’, Flemming looked at her book and blinked.  
‘You’re right. Very impressive, miss Martin.’ She gave her a nod and corrected it on the chalkboard.  
Malia’s mouth dropped, face twisting in a foul look, ‘Lydia, I wasn’t aware you had so many hidden talents.’   
Lydia looked up from her notebook, pursing her lips into a smile:  
‘You and every guy I ever dated.’

*

‘Gold, more gold!,’ miss Blake yelled through the auditorium at the painting kids. She threw a stern look at Scott and a warning glare at Lydia, before strutting off to the coulisses.  
Allison, the girl with the perfectly curled hair, ran up to her.

‘The answer is yes!’   
Lydia frowned, ‘What?’  
‘Our Scholastic Decathlon team has its first competition next week, and I’m sure we have a spot for you,’ the girl smiled broadly, showing of her shiny, white teeth. Apart from the pretentiousness she displayed in homeroom, she seemed… nice, genuine. She had an air of leadership around her.   
But Lydia was more focused on how Allison knew about her achievements. Her eyes caught the papers in Allison’s grasp. Oh, no.  
‘Where did you find these?’   
The brunette frowned, ‘You didn’t put them in my locker?’  
‘Of course not,’ Lydia snapped, but softened when she saw the hurt look on Allison’s face. ‘On a side note, that jacket is absolutely killer. Where’d you get it?’  
‘My mom’s a buyer for a boutique here,’ Allison explained, a smile tugging back on her lips.  
Lydia, self-proclaimed fashion snob, cocked her head to the side, ‘And you, are my new best friend.’    
Allison laughed, 'Anyway, we’d love to have you on our team, we meet almost every day after school.’  
The ginger pursed her lips, did she really want to fall back into that hole? She did love the thrill of finding her own theoretical findings on alternate equations.   
‘Please?’, Allison begged.   
‘I need to catch up on the curriculum here, not add on more.’   
Malia made their way over, and Lydia could feel her anger boil inside. It has only been the first day, and she already wanted to ruin her manicure on this girl.   
‘Isn’t that a good way to ah, catch up? With one of the smartest kids in school?’, she grinned wickedly, ‘What a generous offer, Allison.’ The latter rose an eyebrow, diverting her eyes from the blonde.   
Miss Blake interrupted them, ranting about technology and Lydia zoned off, looking around the room. She found Stiles sitting on a papier-mâché tree, pinning paper leaves to the base. He looked like an odd bird, Lydia thought, chuckling a bit. His friend, Scott, was starting to lull of inside the tree. What a sight, Lydia almost started laughing if she wasn’t a tad afraid of the drama teacher.

Stiles was teasing a napping Scott whilst miss Blake was preaching the theatre. Looking around, he felt a swell of excitement being in the auditorium. He could get used being around freshly painted attributes and endless rows of seating. He liked it.

‘Where’s my team, Blake?’, coach Finstock yelled, flailing his arms like a lunatic. It startled the two lacrosse players awake from their daydreams.   
‘What the hell are those two doing in a tree?!’  
Stiles almost fell out, and Scott dropped on the ground.   
‘It’s called “Crime and Punishment”, Finstock. Besides, proximity to the art is _cleansing_ to the soul.’   
‘We need to talk,’ he raged, ‘McCall, Bilinski, in the gym. _Now_!’     
The boys scrambled of stage, giggles from students following them.   
Lydia huffed amused, what a figure.

*

‘… and this team does not work, unless each and every one of you is fully focused on our goal! Am I clear?’  
Scott, who stood beside Stiles, nodded heavily, ‘What team!?’  
‘Cyclones!’, everyone hollered.   
‘What team?!’  
‘Cyclones!’  
‘What team?!’  
‘Cyclones!’  
Stiles felt his energy rile up, but envy crept in his veins. Scott was a better leader than him. He shouldn’t be wearing the crown. He needed to talk to coach. Stiles pushed the thought aside, placing his hands over all the others.

* * *

 

‘You like archery?’, Lydia asked, intrigued. Allison and her were walking down the grass to the main gates of the school. It was Lydia’s second week here and she already had a good vision on who Allison was. This, however, was new.   
‘More like in love with it,’ Allison said, a shy smile framing her face, ‘My dad hunted with his father, so when he got me and not a son, I guess he just ignored it and taught me how to do it. I hope that if I get a good summer job, I’ll be able to buy a new crossbow,’ she continued excitedly, her curls bouncing up and down. Lydia hadn’t seen many girls with a shorter hairstyle, but Allison looked gorgeous with it. The ginger couldn’t help but feel a little bit envious of her looks and brains.   
‘What about you? Any hidden talents?’, Allison asked, adjusting the hem of her dress.  
Lydia thought about it for a second. Hidden talents. Besides her IQ of a 170, there wasn’t anything peculiar about her.

‘I can make a Molotov cocktail – oh, I can draw well.’  
Allison cocked her head to the side, furrowing her brows, ‘Should I be worried you first thought of a bomb and then of drawing?’  
Lydia smiled, shrugging, ‘Anyway,’ they got onto the pavement, ‘what do you know about Stiles Stilinski?’  
Allison sniffed, ‘No need to say his last name, there is only one boy here named Stiles.’ Lydia rolled her eyes.  
The brunette continued, ‘I don’t know him that well. But to give you an experiment…,’ she went to a few girls rocking the school colours.  
‘Oh my God,’ she faked a gasp, eyes blown wide, ‘have you guys seen Stiles today? So hot!’  
The girls squealed, nodding their head. Lydia crossed her arms, _seriously?_   
Allison quickly got out of the mob of girls and dragged Lydia with her.  
‘What makes him so desirable?’ Lydia truly wondered what the deal was. The boy she met this winter wasn’t the “popular dude” everyone claimed he was.   
‘He is the captain of the lacrosse team. Funnily enough, he isn’t the best,’ Allison said with an open expression. Lydia felt like she was just telling how it was. ‘I guess they just like him because of status.’  
‘Have you tried to get to know him?’, Lydia knew everything about being under the bad impression of someone.   
‘Wait,’ Allison laughed, ‘you don’t-‘  
‘What?’, Lydia’s eyes widened. ‘No.’  
The brunette gave her a knowing look.   
‘No. I- no. I hardly know him. I don’t want a boyfriend.’   
Allison nodded, but it was obvious she didn’t believe her entirely. Without a word, they continued stepping into the school.

*

‘I’ve heard from Finstock you weren’t there with practise. Again! Detention? Really, Stiles? Wasn’t he talking about that “full potential”?’, Stiles’ dad picked up a ball as his son bend over, heavily puffing. His stamina has never been the greatest. Scott’s however…   
‘Sorry, dad.’  
‘Blake will do anything to sabotage lacrosse, so you as well. You can’t have her throwing away a scholarship.’ Stiles nodded obediently, wiping the sweat of his face.   
He didn’t have a first period today, so naturally, sheriff Stilinski decided one hour away from the office wouldn’t hurt, and practised with his son. Stiles wanted a break from all the throwing and running. He wanted to stop and... and feel the music tremble underneath his feet.  
‘Hey dad…,’ he fiddled with the ball in his hand, ‘have you ever thought about trying something new, but were afraid of what your friends might think?’, he hoped he kept in vague. Stiles wasn’t that great with subtlety.   
‘Like you trying to do back shots?’  
Stiles groaned, ‘No. What if you wanna try something really new? And it’s a total disaster and all your friends laugh at you?’ Yes, Stiles thought, he definitely needed to work on being more subtle. Noah Stilinski was a cop, he could see right through Stiles if he’d like.  
He frowned, ‘Well, then maybe they’re not really your friends.’  
Stiles sighed, closing his eyes whilst placing his hands on his hips. His dad droned on, but his mind was elsewhere. Ever since New Year, singing was the only thing that fulfilled his needs. He sang more in the shower, and hummed on the streets when he went to Scott’s house, (Which was almost daily. Stiles helped Scott with chemistry, Scott helped Stiles with econ.) and a piano has never looked so appealing. Of course, Lydia Martin was on his mind as well.   
The school was large, yet he seemed to catch her eye everywhere. At lunch, on the bleachers, sitting in front of him in a class. It didn’t help that she was undeniably pretty, so every time her forest green eyes met his, he felt his heart leap. Her being around wasn’t good for his anxiety.   
‘Focus, Stiles. Eyes on the scholarship.’  
He picked up a ball from the grass with his stick, and threw to it to his dad.

For the first time ever, the movement felt boring.

*

‘Yo, Stiles. The whole team is going to the gym in free period, what do you want to have us go on?’, Scott asked, nodding his head in the general direction of the fitness space.   
Free period was third period, Stiles remembered. That was when the auditions for the musical were held.  
Stiles stared at Scott for a second.  
The last time he lied to his friend was when he was nine and said his dog broke Scott’s Harry Potter wand. Stiles – the ADHD ridden kid – was so angry that Scott didn’t want to see Star Wars, he just broke the precious piece of plastic.   
‘You know what, I can’t make it. I gotta catch up on some homework.’  
Scott laughed, ‘Dude, you never sleep, I don’t think you have any homework left to do.’  
‘Hilarious,’ Stiles grimaced sarcastically. ‘I’ll see you later,’ he continued with an air of nonchalance, cutting him of to get into a different wing.   
As Stiles powerwalked down the hallways, he could feel a pair of eyes of him. Scott. He walked a bit faster. Self-preservation was always his first instinct. He quickly entered a classroom, seeing Scott watching him in his peripheral vision. Just as Scott was distracted, he ran out of through a different door.   
The boy felt like his childhood dream came to life. Becoming a spy! He nearly crossed Scott, but edged to an empty staircase down to the auditorium.   
Fuck. He whipped around and held his backpack up so the vice principle wouldn’t see his face. Students weren’t exactly allowed in this part of the school. “Staff Only”. Right.   
The oblivious woman passed by, and Stiles got back on his journey – to immediately stop, as Finstock appeared from behind a door. The boy jumped behind a wall, and ran behind a trash bin. He heard the loud, retreating footsteps and sighed relieved. God, what did he need to do to get to that damned auditorium?   
He jerked his head around when the scraping of someone’s throat was heard. A teacher.   
He gulped, smiling charismatically. ‘Shortcut. Late for class,’ without awaiting the answer, he slammed the door open and walked into the bustling hallway.

Stiles sneaked into the coulisses, where the blaring lights gave him a headache. Around him, people were busying himself with painting sets, shuffling through sheet music and hauling around instruments. He almost got himself hit with a trombone. No one noticed him. Perfect.   
He peeked through the curtains, seeing all the candidates filing into the red, plush seats.  
Stiles cursed, he had to get out of there before the auditions started.

Meanwhile, Lydia got out of Allison’s grasp and, whilst everyone was busy, glided out of the conversation. Who knew that five years of ballet would come in handy to gracefully disappear from the scene.  
She wasn’t entirely sure how to get to the auditorium, but she had seen the golden engraved lettering on the ground floor, near homeroom. Lydia ran down the stairs, and just as she opened the heavy door, she saw a participant standing right in front of her destination typing on her phone.   
Lydia grinned, ignoring the bubbling butterflies in her stomach.  
The thought of singing on stage (with Stiles) had been secretly creeping up on her. It had started with doodling the lyrics they sung in the margins of her notebooks, to actually singing in her room when her mom was out of the house. Prada was her only watcher.   
Lydia opened her purse waiting for the girl to get inside so she can go in a few minutes after. She tapped her heeled foot on the ground. Would Stiles audition too?  
Lydia pursed her lips. No, he wouldn’t, she betted his reputation wasn’t worth falling for that.  
What she found confusing, is that she still didn’t know any valid reasons why pupils put him on a pedestal. Wasn’t he just Stiles? The guy who always fell on his butt because he didn’t see where his chair stood?   
The girl at the door finally decided to go in, and Lydia took her chance.

Lydia got in, staying hidden behind the single wall that separated her from rows of plush chairs and the grand stage. She heard miss Blake talk about the art of drama and theatre and – Lydia crossed her arms. She just wanted to see what this was all about, enjoy some music and then leave. The thoughts of auditioning had disappeared.   
The door in front of her opened, and a ducking Stiles closed it, sneakily looking left and right, before his eyes landed on her. They widened, looking like a deer in headlights.  
Great, Stiles thought, how do you always mess it up when she’s around?  
Lydia laughed softly, ‘What the hell are you doing here?’   
Melodious piano tones filled the room, yet a strained loud voice ruined the harmony. Lydia scrunched up her nose. Pass.

‘N-nothing-‘  
‘So you decided to sign up or something?’  
‘Ah,’ he scratched the back of his head, ‘no. You?’  
She looked at the crawling people on the stage. Weird.  
‘No.’ A slight waver was in her voice, but she pushed it back.   
Silence fell over them, and as she looked up, she saw his entrancing amber eyes staring at her. Stiles coughed awkwardly. What should he say? Stiles wanted to ram his head into the wall. Why was he acting like a fool?!   
‘Your friends don’t know you’re here, right?’, Lydia asking, helplessly trying to get the blush out of her cheeks.    
He gave her a lopsided smile, ‘Right.’  
Lydia inspected the next girl. Frozen. Well, she couldn’t be rude about that, as it has happened to her before numerous times.

‘And for the lead roles of Minnie and Arnold. Only one sign-up. Malia and Liam.’  
Lydia and Stiles hid behind the wall again, as people were starting to disperse. Stiles held his breath. She was very close to him now. He could smell her flowery perfume and felt wisps of her soft, red (it wasn’t quite red… more so strawberry blonde.) hair on his arms. He resisted the urge to touch it.   
Lydia loved the deodorant he was wearing. It was probably just a drugstore brand with the most generic name like “METAL”, but it suited him. Very well. The flannel he was wearing looked soft, and for a moment she wondered what it would be like to wear it, along with the scent that was probably engrained into it.

Lydia, stop.

Malia and Liam ascended the stage, both in trendy outfits. Lydia would’ve complimented Malia if she hadn’t been acted so bitchy the first week. Lydia nudged Stiles to sit in the chairs at the back row.  
The poppy version of the romantic song started, playing from a stereo. Lydia could see the discontent on the pianist her face.  
Lydia was impressed though, both of them had amazing voices, and harmonised well. They knew how to play with the audience and wow them. But, something just felt _off_.   
It ended, the only sound was their hard breathing. They’d done some exhausting dance moves. Stiles wondered how much they exercised every day to have that good of a condition to sing _and_ dance at the same time.  

‘Well,’ miss Blake stood up, looking around. Stiles quickly pushed himself to the ground, away from the vision of his teacher. His cheek felt the slight puffs of Lydia. He shivered.  
‘are there any last minute sign-ups?’  
Lydia stared at the stage. She did like the song. She could do it, if she put her mind to it. The girl bit her lip, staring at Stiles who was already slowly retreating to the wall where they stood before.  
She felt her voice bubbling up from inside her, a strong desire she hasn’t felt in a while.     
‘Any last minute sign-ups?’, Blake repeated, looking around the emptying room.   
‘We should go…’, Stiles whispered, nodding to the doors. If Blake caught them, his dad would _freak_.   
‘No… good. Done!’, she switched the desk light of.

Lydia felt herself moving forwards. It was one of those things when you just blurted out a word without realising, or when you start sniggering for no reason and everyone looked at you like fool. It was one of those moments, Lydia thought, as she jumped out of their hiding spot and yelled,   
‘I’d like to audition, miss Blake!’  
  
Stiles’ eyes widened. What? No, come back, Lydia! Retreat! Abord mission!  
The whole school will go out of their minds. No one had ever tried to audition for a role Malia claimed.   
Lydia’s heart loudly drummed in her chest, a slight flush on her face.   
‘Time means something in the world of theatre, young lady,’ Darbus scolded her, placing her bag down. Lydia tried to charm her with her award winning smile, but it had no effect.   
‘The individual auditions are long, long over. There are simply no other pairs.’  
Lydia looked down, biting her lip. Perhaps it was meant this way.

‘I’ll sing with her,’ was heard from the back of the room.   
Stiles pitied Lydia, as he had seen her eyes casted down and clenched fists. He didn’t know she was yearning for the stage like he did. Maybe, this was his shot as well.  
As he said those four, unforgettable words, he knew that if his friends found out, hell would break loose. He felt something shift in the air. It was thrilling and terrifying to say, feeling exposed.  
Stiles appeared from behind the wall, Lydia’s lips parting. He, “Stiles the lacrosse-boy” (words courtesy of Allison) would sacrifice his precious rep just to sing a little duet with her? Lydia gave him a small smile, whilst he raised his hand in participation and scratched the back of his head in an uncomfortable fashion.

‘Stiles Stilinski,’ Blake said in disbelief, almost awe, ‘where is you sport… posse, or whatever it’s called?’  
Stiles’ confidence faltered. Was he really just known as part of the jocks? He aced all his classes.  
‘Team,’ he corrected her, nonetheless.   
‘Ah.’  
‘Uh,’ he glanced at Lydia, who grinned at him in encouragement, ‘but I’m here alone. I’m – you know – here to sing with, ah, with her. With Lydia.’ He felt incredibly small under Blake’s scrutinising gaze.

‘Yes, well,’ she said in a demonising tone, ‘we take this show very seriously. I called for the pairs audition and you didn’t respond. Free period is over.’  
Lydia saw compassion in the eyes of the aged teacher, but she knew her pride was at upper hand. 

‘She has an amazing voice!’, Stiles tried, angered.  
Lydia placed a hand on his arm. ‘It’s fine, Stiles.’  
Miss Blake stopped, ‘Perhaps… the next musical,’ she opened the doors and stepped out of the spacious auditorium, leaving them and the pianist in the room.   
‘Fuck,’ Lydia whispered.   
Stiles rubbed his cheek, tired, ‘Sorry, Lydia-‘

Suddenly, the pianist fell on the ground with a loud thud, sheet music flying everywhere. Stiles groaned inwardly, but followed Lydia anyway as she came to aid her. The two stepped on stage, bending down to help. The pianist startled, a guarded expression in her eyes. Lydia smiled reassuringly, recognising this type of girl. Easy prey, but probably a lovely girl.   
‘You wrote the songs Malia and Liam just sang?’, Lydia asked, easing the situation. The girl merely nodded.   
Stiles butted in, interested, ‘And the entire show?’  
The girl nodded again. He was impressed. In lacrosse you already have the rules and you just make a game plan, but she made the rules herself, right from her own imagination.    
‘That’s really awesome,’ Stiles said, catching the last papers of the ground before getting up. Lydia stared at his profile. She hadn’t seen his softer side before. Normally, he was all loud and flailing limbs. This was… different.    
‘So,’ he continued, ‘why are you afraid of Malia and Liam? I mean it _is_ your show.’  
She frowned, ‘It is?’  
‘You just said you wrote it,’ Stiles pointed out, a smug smile on his face, ‘isn’t that like the playmaker in lacrosse?’   
Both girls cocked their head. ‘Playmaker?’, Lydia asked amused. What the hell was that? Albeit her intelligence, she wasn’t that informed with sports. There were more important matters to read up on.   
‘The one that makes sure we’re not crap. Without you, the show would go to shit. You’re the playmaker, ah…,’ he stared at her apologetically. He didn’t know her name.   
‘Kira,’ she smiled, ‘and really? I am?’  
Stiles nodded, and Lydia felt her heart leap. Not only did they cheer the girl up, but she also got to witness of the smile of this boy, where his cheekbones popped out and his eyes sparkled a golden hue.   
Lydia, lock the thought up in a box and archive it. You do _not_ need it.

‘Do you wanna hear how the duet’s supposed to sound?’, she asked, excitement in her tone.  
Lydia nodded eagerly, she hasn’t heard (besides Malia and Liam) a good voice accompanying the sweet notes of the piece.   
Kira sat down behind the piano and placed her papers correctly on the stand.   
She started playing, it was a bit funky, but had some classical undertones in it.  
It reminded Lydia of hazy Sundays when she had choir and they were all laughing and singing as if they were drunk. The good times.   
Kira signalled at Stiles to start.

_It’s hard to believe that I couldn’t see  
you were always there beside me_

Lydia glanced at Stiles, his voice was a bit husky, and the baritone voice fitted the song.   
Kira nodded at Lydia to jump in and for Stiles to stay silent for a second.

_Thought I was alone  
with no one to hold    _

Stiles held his breath as she sung. He didn’t care Kira saw his obvious stare. Lydia was pretty, but she got beautiful when her raspy, soft voice filled the room with her singing. He opened his lips.

_But you were always right beside me  
this feeling’s like no other  
I want you to know… _

Lydia didn’t dare to look at him now. Singing was something intimate, and if she would look at him, she would feel like someone intruded her space.

_That I’ve never had someone  
who knows me like you do  
the way you do  
I’ve never had someone  
as good for me as you  
no one like you…_

Stiles felt the eerie energy surrounding them. Kira, Lydia and him in this bubble, protected from the outside world that was filled with hate and judgement. This felt… safe.

_So lonely before  
I’ve finally found  
what I’ve been looking for._

Lydia glanced up at Stiles, he was already looking at her. His amber eyes connected with her emerald ones, and she felt something click. What it was, she didn’t know. But this, singing with Stiles and Kira on the piano, seemed right. More correct than an affirmative answer on an equation.

The last note wavered through the auditorium that had a resounding acoustic.   
Stiles’ mouth slightly parted, looking down at the strawberry blonde who seemed a bit lost.

‘Wow,’ Stiles broke the tension, ‘that’s uh, nice.’

‘Stilinski, Martin,’ a harsh noise corrupted the space, and the three jerked their heads towards the doors where a frowning, yet impressed miss Blake was standing.   
‘you have a call-back – Kira, give them the duet from the second act. Work on it with them,’ the woman left the room once again, and Stiles stood there dumbfounded, completely flabbergasted at what just happened. Kira started babbling behind them about rehearsals. Lydia followed along obediently, smiling as Kira bloomed into this bubbly spirit.

Stiles looked up, ‘What?’

*

The next day, Lydia felt eyes on her. She didn’t know why, and it annoyed her terribly. She has already snapped at several students, mostly younger than her, with a “What?!”, that was filled with menace. She hadn’t _completely_ lost her power.   
It all became clear when she was standing in front of the lunch lady, deciding what to get. There weren’t many options to choose from, but the safest option seemed to be nachos and a water, so she picked that. In the distance, she heard there was a lot of fuss going on. People screaming and the sound of clattering cutlery. She frowned, turning around to Allison, who merely shrugged.

‘Everybody quiet!’, Malia yelled as Allison and Lydia arrived to the scene. Lydia looked around confused, why was everyone so tense – wait.  
‘Why is everybody staring at you?’, she asked Allison.   
‘Not me. You,’ Allison said, crossing her arms.   
Lydia huffed, ‘Because of the call-backs? That’s ridiculous. They need to get over themselves,‘ Lydia – stubborn as she was – started looking for a spot between the hostile looking students, whilst Allison went the other way.   
‘Lydia, wait!’, Allison urged her back, trying to take her to a seat near the back. Although Allison radiated confidence, she wasn’t one for the spotlight, Lydia noticed. Still, the girl searched for a seat in the rowdy crowd.

Her heels, the adorable Mary Jane’s, weren’t made for slippery floors. She knew that know, as she slipped on milk. She gasped, her food flying over her head right on the person behind her.

The crowd fell silent, everyone is pure shock at what just happened, Allison helplessly trying to get Lydia away from there. The ginger turned around, ready to apologise until she saw who the victim was. Malia. Great. This day couldn’t get any better.   
Even though Lydia held a grudge, she still felt bad. ‘I’m sorry. Ah-‘, she grabbed a napkin from the fallen tray and began wiping the greasy nachos of Malia’s stripy top. It only made the girl more furious as she stomped her foot on the ground. Lydia wanted to scream.   
Allison grasped Lydia’s hands and tugged her away from the cafeteria.   
The brunette smirked once they were out of the room, ‘Now we know how high her pitch is.’  
Lydia smiled, in these two weeks that Lydia had known her, she figured out that Allison had a charm to lighten the room with her humour and charisma.

Meanwhile Stiles had seen everything play from afar, Scott holding him back.   
‘You do not want to get into that, Stiles, too much drama.’ Although Scott liked helping people, this was not his cup of tea. And if it wasn’t Scott’s, it certainly wasn’t his.   
Stiles glanced at Scott, realising something else was off. This wasn’t just about a petty fight between two girls.   
‘What’s up?’, he asked, nudging Scott’s arm.   
‘What’s up?’, Scott snapped, ‘let’s see: you missed free period workout and instead auditioned for some heinous school musical. And now, suddenly people are… confessing. Isaac here,’ Scott took Isaac by his scarf, tugging him towards their conversation,  
‘Isaac is baking. Crême Brulée.’  
Stiles’ smiled. That sounded exotic. ‘Oh, what’s that?’  
‘Oh,’ Isaac’s eyes held excitement, ‘it’s a creamy custard with a caramelised surface, it’s really satisfying,’ Isaac explained, whilst Stiles nodded appreciatively. He’d eat that.   
‘Shut. Up. Isaac!’, groaned Scott, ushering him away. Stiles sighed, sitting down at one of the tables.

‘Do you see what’s happening here, Stiles? Our group is falling apart because of your singing thing. Because of you, the team thinks they can do other stuff, which makes them lose focus, which will make us _lose_ the championship!’, Scott ended of his rant, bolting upright and storming out of the cafeteria. Scott was always composed, Stiles had rarely seen him this tense. This mad. He rolled his lips inwards, burying his hands in his head. He fucked up.

*

‘I get that Malia is mad, but I said sorry!’, Lydia mumbled the last part, munching on a fry whilst waiting for Allison to answer.   
‘Look, nobody has stolen a role from Malia since _kindergarten_.’  
‘I wasn’t trying to steal the role, we didn’t even audition, we were just singing – but to be fair, her poppy version is worse than Kira’s original.’  
Allison chuckled, ‘You won’t convince Malia of that.’  
‘Well, I liked it. A lot.’  
Allison cocked her head, smiling amused, ‘Are you sure you don’t like Stiles?’  
‘Affirmative.’   
Lydia bit her lip, pondering if she should ask Allison. ‘Do you sometime wonder, there is this different part of you, waiting to just… get out?’  
Allison thought about it, ‘Maybe. Sometimes,’ she smiled, ‘come on, let’s go to-‘  
‘The science lab?’  
The brunette looked at her as if she had grown four heads. ‘What are you, psychic?’  
‘Psychic, no. Genius, yes,’ Lydia said in a sharp, but friendly tone. She stood up, grabbed her bag and ushered Allison away before the hallways got too busy.

Lydia bid Allison goodbye, who had to go to English (with Scott, the brunette had sighed annoyed) and opened her locker to pick up her history books.  
A little piece of paper fluttered out, dancing onto the ground. Lydia frowned. What middle schooler got accidentally placed in high school? The poor guy or girl probably had the wrong locker in mind. She opened the leaflet nonetheless, and saw her name in boyish handwriting. The girl smiled.

_Lydia  
Go to the roof of the school  
Stiles_

*

Lydia followed the staircases towards a big, white door. She heard the breeze from inside and the chirping of the birds. Lydia smiled, butterflies bouncing up and down inside her stomach. Nobody had ever met up with her on such a weird spot in such a cute way. ( _Only_ Stiles would make a note.)   
She pushed the doors open, and was met with the bright sunlight of California. What she wasn’t expecting, was a flourishing botanical garden, filled with beautiful flowers and potted herbs in a row on racks. There were palm trees, little strawberry plants. Lydia had never seen anything like it. Her shining eyes met Stiles, who stared at her rather… soft. Fond, even.  
Lydia gulped, she wasn’t expecting that. The girl quickly masked it with a smirk.

‘Wow. Am I in the Californian jungle?’  
He chuckled, trying to push the thought back that she looked absolutely stunning between the blooming flowers and the beaming sunlight. It filtered through the leaves, giving the space a golden hue. She looked ethereal.    
‘Yeah, just like that cafeteria,’ Stiles said, his smile faltering at the latter.   
‘I think I just gave myself the worst reputation that has ever existed in this school,’ Lydia joked, leaning against the barre.   
He followed suit, ‘Nah…’  
She changed topic, not wanting to think about Malia, ‘So, this is your secret hide-out?’

Stiles exhaled, looking at the streets and nature and houses ahead of him.   
‘Yeah, thanks to the science club, which means Scott doesn’t even know it exists.’  
Lydia rose an eyebrow, not holding back her question, ‘Why does this school follow you? It almost seems like everybody wants to be your friend.’  
Stiles grinned with a bitter taste in his mouth, ‘Unless we lose.’  
He wasn’t dumb, he knew all the attention was superficial. School was one big pile of hypocrisy. Not that he was a saint, but at least he wasn’t trying to be someone’s friend because of something materialistic.   
‘Is your dad strict?’  
‘I work a little harder, I guess,’ Stiles said, suddenly remembering the call-back, ‘I don’t know what he’s gonna say when he finds out about the singing.’  
Lydia frowned, ‘Are you worried?’  
Stiles liked this. It’s been a while since he had a genuine conversation with someone. Something that wasn’t about sports, sports and sports.   
‘My dad’s friends are always saying: “Your son’s the lacrosse guy! You must be so…’, Stiles’ smile fell, ‘proud”.’, Stiles always felt frustrated. It felt suffocating, the label, as if his fate was decided and he wasn’t allowed to do anything else, to think, to try, to say. It was lacrosse, and that was final.  
He didn’t want it to be final.

‘Sometimes I don’t want to be the lacrosse guy, sometimes I just – you know – want to be… a guy.’   
Lydia was surprised. She knew Stiles had more depth than what meets the eye, but she didn’t realise he was scared. He was soft and compassionate, not just loud and athletic.  
Lydia heart lurched, Stiles opened up to _her_. He doesn’t know when her birthday is, or what her favourite colour is (it’s blue), but he decided that she was worthy of opening up too.  
Not Scott.  
Her.   
She gave him a sympathetic smile, ‘Do your friends know that guy? Like the one who helped Kira with her sheets?’, she moved, sitting down on a wooden bench. The sun burned on her bare arms and she smiled. Nice.   
‘To them I’m the playmaker. Even Scott. I can’t remember the last time we had a conversation that wasn’t about lacrosse.’  
Stiles missed those hazy childhood years. Scott wasn’t a night owl, but he always stayed up when he slept at Stiles’ because he had fun. The boy missed it.

‘Then they don’t know enough about you,’ she said. ‘At my other school I was the insane math girl. It’s nice coming her and being… any version of Lydia I want to be.’  
He smiled.   
‘When I was singing with you,’ Lydia continued, and confessed, ‘I just felt like Lydia.’  
Stiles jerked his head at her, amused by what she said, ‘You even look like a Lydia too!’, he winked, and she rolled her eyes.   
Stiles sat down next to her, deeply breathing in the fresh air. This was worth skipping class for.   
  
‘How did-‘ ‘Did you-‘, they said at the same time.  
The two laughed, Stiles pointed at Lydia to start.   
‘Did you know you were good at singing?’  
‘Ah,’ he licked his lips, looking up, ‘no, not really. No.’  
She nodded. ‘What did you wanna ask?’  
‘How did you start singing?’

A nostalgic smile played on the lips of Lydia.  
‘Apparently, I’ve always sung. So, my mom put me in choir. I loved doing gospel with a twist of rock,’ told Lydia, ‘But when they figured out I excelled at sciences, I got less and less time for choir. I miss it sometimes.’

Stiles liked it when she started explaining stuff. He didn’t really know much about her, but these moments put the pieces together in his mind. Made him solve the mystery that was Lydia Martin. The strawberry blonde that was clogging his brain, day and night.

‘You know what this feels like?’, Lydia rhetorically asked, swinging her legs a little.   
‘What?’  
‘When you’re in kindergarten and you start playing with someone who you don’t even know, and suddenly you’re friends. Because you’re just yourself. It’s easy,’ she looked around the botanical garden with a content look.  
‘This is like kindergarten,’ she concluded.   
He smiled, not daring to meet her eyes. She was beaming, something that he couldn’t handle without not touching her. Their eyes met. He wanted to kiss her.

‘Are we going to do call-backs?’, he asked her, flitting his eyes back to a miscellaneous plant.   
‘Do you want to?’  
He shrugged, ‘Just, call me “freaky call-back boy”.’  
Just go die in a hole, Stiles. He cringed inwardly.   
She looked at him with a pitying look, reading his mind.   
‘You’re weird, Stiles.’  
He laughed, not knowing what to say. He took it as a compliment.   
‘And thanks for showing me your hide-out. I love it.’  
Before he could speak, the screeching bell echoed through the hallways up to their place.   
‘Fuck,’ he mumbled, dragging her upright by the hand, before letting go so she could run in front of him. Time to go back to reality.

* * *

 

The following week was hectic. It went from humming as they painted sets, to singing in empty hallways and washrooms, to the rehearsals with Kira in the music room. Usually they rehearsed separately, since their schedules didn’t match up. But on Friday, sixth period, they were with the three of them, laughing and singing. Lydia got to know Kira better as well. She was a bad-ass katana wielder and had a rich family history behind her.  
Kira was intriguing, unlike anyone she has ever met before.

One evening, Lydia got asked by Stiles to come over so they could rehearse together. He had recorded Kira playing the music, so they could easily do it at home.   
The girl felt a bit nervous, wiping her clammy hands on her brown leather skirt. The foolishness made her eyes roll. It’s just Stiles!   
With one last glance at her outfit (a pug sweater was always a good option), Lydia made her way to Stiles’ house.

She sat on his bed, watching him from across the room whilst he was searching for the sheet music. He huffed of accomplishment as he found it and plopped down next to her.   
She frowned, ‘What do the colours mean?’   
He sighed, ‘Green is that I perfected it, yellow is needing to ask Kira for advice, red is that I need to work on it. Blue’s just pretty.’  
‘Almost everything is coloured red,’ she pointed out.   
‘I’m aware of that, thank you,’ he scoffed sarcastically.  
He always seemed to do that, she noticed, that little sarcastic lilt in his voice.   
She absentmindedly played with the edges of the papers. ‘Are you scared for call-backs?’   
‘Hm? Nah, it’s going to be fine,’ he mumbled, adding notes to the margin.   
She silently nodded, her eyes wavering down.   
Stiles noticed the tension, and turned around to look at her. A curtain of thick, ginger strands covered her face, and he lightly shifted it out of the way, touching her jaw. She tensed up.

‘Hey, hey,’ he jumped of his bed, squatting down in front of her, ‘you have an amazing voice, Lydia. Don’t start… doubting yourself right now,’ he looked up from his gaze to the ground, meeting her smiling, red stained lips and eyes that shone gratitude. She didn’t need to say thank you. He understood.

‘C’mon,’ he said, standing up, ‘we need to work on that chorus.’

*

Fuck. As Stiles was rehearsing with Kira, he’d forgotten he had lacrosse training.  
As fast as he could, he ran to the changing rooms and onto the field, right as everyone left. Scott, still mad, chucked the ball at him whilst leaving. Stiles stood next to Finstock, awaiting the screams. He stayed silent. Stiles didn’t know if that was worse.   
‘I ah,’ he said, carefully, ‘I think I’m gonna stay awhile, work on my back shots.’  
‘Yeah,’ he pursed his lips, ‘I think your team deserves a little effort of you today.’ With that snide comment, Finstock got out of the field. Stiles sighed.  

After a quick run around the field, he began practising. It was quite tiring, without a goalie, so he had to play both roles. Stiles groaned with agitation. Singing and lacrosse did not mix!

Lydia got out of the school building. After she almost completely wrecked the sewing machine in the coulisses, it had taken some time to escape the wrath of miss Blake, pick up her books and leave the school. The carpark was nearly empty, but one peculiar car stood out. Stiles’ blue pick-up truck. (“Roscoe, that’s the name of my good ol’ car,” Stiles had said on one of their late night singing sessions.)   
Why was he still at school? Practise? Lydia grabbed her phone from her purse. She still had some time before going home, and she had already finished her homework during class. These teachers were so oblivious. She heard rumbling on the field.

‘Wow,’ Lydia exclaimed as she got to Stiles. He was the only one there. ‘so this is your real stage?’  
His head jerked around, his body following suit. Stiles is surprised, wouldn’t she be home by now?   
He chuckled, spreading his arms open, ‘Yeah, I guess you could call it that.’  
She opened her hand toward the stick in his hands. ‘Can I try?’   
He shrugged, ‘Sure,’ he handed her over the stick and placed the ball on the grass in front of her.  
She picked it up, a bit wobbly, before placing her hands like she saw Stiles do for a second. Thanks to her photographic memory, she could easily pick up new techniques. She’d even went on a trip to the woods with Allison and informed her about all the archery techniques she educated herself with.

(“What?”, Lydia had said when Allison gave her a strange look, “I read.”)

In one smooth movement, the ball flew into the air, straight into the goal. Lydia smirked, even with four inch heels she can score.   
‘Wow,’ he said impressed, ‘don’t tell me you’ve been hiding you’re a lacrosse player as well?’  
‘I was actually the leader of the girl’s team in my last school,’ she said, hoping he didn’t see through her act.   
‘No way.’  
‘Hm, and later that day I met Nelson Mandela and won a Fields Medal,’ she grinned, seeing his smile fall and his eyes roll back.  
‘Oh, very funny. Haha,’ Stiles hadn’t flirted with a girl in a very long time, but he figured this was what is was. That little thought gave him a confidence boost.   
She began twirling with the stick like it was a baton, making teasing noises. She liked this. The last time she was playful with a guy was two schools ago, when Aiden took notice of her.    
‘Hey, that’s against the rules,’ he yelled. She began kicking the ball with her feet.  
‘Hey, that’s really wrong,’ he laughed, picking her up around her waist whilst twirling her around. Lydia squealed, a blush covering her face. She hasn’t felt so _free_ in a long time, even in this ephemeral moment.  
As usual, she ignored the erupting butterflies in her chest, as her back was pressed against his toned chest.   
Stiles laughed along, masking how insecure he was about this. This was a move. _He just made move._ And she went along with it. He shook the thoughts away. He didn’t care. This felt nice. And so, so right.

‘Girl! Sorry, this is a _closed_ practise,’ Finstock got back in their vision, scowling. Fuck, Stiles thought, he thought he already left.  
Stiles pleaded, ‘Finstock, c’mon, practise is over.’  
Lydia awkwardly held the stick in her hand, avoiding the gaze of the angry man. She didn’t want Stiles to get in trouble.  
‘Until the last player leaves the field – team rule.’  
Lydia butted in, ‘I’m sorry, sir.’  
‘Ah,’ Stiles felt the need to introduce her, ‘this is Lydia.’   
Finstock took her full five foot three body in, pursing his lips, ‘You’re detention buddy.’  
Lydia frowned, feeling offended. Great, a teacher hated her. She gave the stick to Stiles.  
‘I’ll see you later, Stiles,’ she said coyly, leaving the two behind.

*

‘I got a call from Finstock. You missed practise, again! By some… girl!’, his dad said the moment Stiles opened the front door.  
He sighed, ‘Dad, it was my fault, not hers.’  
‘You haven’t missed practise in three years, and then _that girl_ shows up-’  
‘ _That girl_ , is named Lydia,’ he huffed, ‘And she’s very nice.’ Stiles noticed his dad read between the lines, but gladly he didn’t say anything about it.  
‘Well, making you miss practise doesn’t make her very nice! Not in my book! Or your team’s’, exclaimed Noah.  
Stiles felt conflicted, ‘She’s not a problem, dad – she’s just a girl.’

His dad exploded, mouth spewing open ‘But you’re not just a guy, Stiles!’, the man’s face fell, suddenly the wrinkles around his eyes more prominent. Stiles hadn’t noticed until now how tired his dad looked.  
‘You’re the team leader,’ Noah continued, exhaling slowly, ‘what you do, does not only affect you, but your team as well. And without you, completely focused, you’re not gonna win next week,’ his dad was crude, straight to the point. ‘Championship games… they don’t come along all the time. You’re something special.’

Something snapped inside of Stiles, the urge to argue holding him tight, ‘Well, a lot of things are special, dad.’  
His dad chuckled, trying to ease the electric tension that filled the room, ‘But you’re a playmaker. Not a singer. Right?’ Scott must’ve told him.

‘Did you ever think that maybe I could be both!?’, Stiles screamed, tired and done with the conversation. He was done being obedient to his dad. Without looking at his father, he passed him, going up the stairs and falling on his bed.

* * *

 

‘What spell has this elevated IQ banshee girl cast, that suddenly makes you want to be in a musical?’   
Scott had followed Stiles into the school library, where he was looking for some books about mythology. Stiles first thought Scott wanted to reconcile, but clearly not. He ignored the comment and picked up a book.   
‘Look I just did it, okay? Who cares?’, he snapped.  
Scott huffed, ‘Who cares?’, nudging his friend, ‘How about your best friend since kindergarten?’  
Stiles held in a condescending laugh. Right.  
‘Look,’ Scott continued as Stiles remained quiet, ‘you’re an athlete, not a musical singer-person.’  
Stiles pushed Scott back and walked further down the aisle, grabbing another book.   
_“The Science behind Werewolves.”_ Interesting. 

‘Have you ever seen Michael Crawford on the front of a cereal box?’, Scott blurted out, receiving an odd look from the other boy.   
‘Who’s Michael Crawford?’  
‘Exactly my point,’ he stopped Stiles from searching, and the boy looked up tired, ‘he was the “Phantom of The Opera” on Broadway, and my mom has seen that musical _twenty-seven_ times. And she put his picture in our refrigerator. Yeah! – not _on_ it, in it! So my point is, if you play lacrosse, you’re gonna end up on a cereal box. If you sing in musicals, you’re gonna end up in my mom’s refrigerator.’  
Stiles was lost, ‘Why would Melissa put his picture in the refrigerator?’  
Scott held his hands up, ‘I think she was tired after a night shift – look, I don’t attempt to understand my mom’s mind, Stiles!’  
Stiles placed the book on the desk he and Scott sat regularly. Well, before all the drama happened.   
‘How do you expect the rest of us,’ continued Scott his rant. Stiles honestly just wanted to use some duck-tape to shut him up, ‘to be focused on the game, if you’re off somewhere in a leotard singing “Twinkle Town”,’ Scott did jazz hands out of mock, and Stiles rose his eyebrows unamused.   
‘No one said anything about leotards.’  
‘Not yet, Stiles, but wait.’

Stiles began to feel the weight of the team again. When he sang, all his worries disappeared. But now that Scott was reminding him about his responsibilities, his mind removed the lyrics and made space for lacrosse techniques. He had to work on his back shots.    
‘We need you, Stiles, big time.’  
‘Why can’t you lead? You are way more motivated than I am,’ Stiles said, honesty lacing his voice. Scott’s eyes softened for a moment.   
‘You know why. I’m good at playing, you’re good at figuring things out.’  
With that, Scott left Stiles alone with his book, and the boy has never felt so alone.

*

A few days later, after being completely ignored by his friends, he got a text from Scott.

_Go to the lockers_

As Lydia rummaged through her purse, she got a text from Allison.

_Lab – get here now. xx Allison_

*

Stiles got into the changing room, coming face to face with Scott and eight other teammates. He frowned. What was happening?   
‘Casey Powell,’ Scott said, holding up the framed picture of the famous lacrosse player.   
‘Class of 1994, MVP league championship game.’  
‘Kyle Harrison,’ Isaac said, ‘He played internationally for the US in the World Lacrosse Championship.’  
Jackson followed up, ‘Gary Gait, led the Cyclones to championship. A legend.’  
‘Yes,’ Scott continued, ‘legends. But do you think that any of these Cyclones legends became legends by getting involved with school musical auditions? That that would lead them to championships?’  
Stiles closed his eyes, placing his hands on his hips. He would never escape this. He just wanted someone to explain what was so wrong about him enjoying something other than lacrosse. What was so wrong with him singing? With him happy?   
‘Get your head in the game!’, yelled the group.   
‘No,’ Scott interrupted, Stiles saw he had prepared the speech, ‘these Cyclones legends became legends because they never took their eyes of the prize.’  
‘Get your head in the game!’  
‘Now,’ Scott shouted, ‘who was the first sophomore _ever_ , to make starting varsity?’  
‘Stiles!’, the team yelled.   
‘So who voted him our team captain this year?’   
‘Us!’  
‘And who is gonna get their butts kicked at Friday’s championships game, if Stiles is worried about an audition?’  
‘We are,’ the team mumbled, defeated.

Stiles chuckled, they are exaggerating. ‘Guys, come on. There are ten players on the team not just me.’  
‘Just ten? Oh no, I think you’re forgetting one important member from our pack,’ he handed Stiles a frame, and he looked down, sighing as he saw the old picture.   
‘My dad.’  
‘Yes, Stiles. Cyclones lacrosse champion, class of 1981. Champion, father, and now training you. It’s a winning tradition like no other.’  
Stiles felt lost, from the brainwashing shouts from his teammates to the guilt trip or Scott, Stiles didn’t know what to do anymore.

Meanwhile in the science lab, Lydia was sat down by Allison in front of a computer, whilst the other teammates from the scholastic decathlon stood behind the prideful brunette.

‘From lonely Neanderthal to early warriors, medieval knights, all leading up to…’   
Two people rolled a poster open, where a photographic caricature of Stiles playing lacrosse was displayed. It looked ridiculous. Lydia rolled her eyes, her smile faltering. Where were they going with this?

‘Lunkhead, lacrosse boy – yes, our culture worshipped the aggressor throughout the ages, and we end up with spoiled, over-payed, bonehead athletes, who contribute little to civilisation other than back shots and goals. That, is the inevitable world of Stiles Stilinski.’  
Lydia could hardly keep in her laugh. She loved Allison, truly, but sometimes she got a bit too ambitious.  
‘But the path of the mind,’ she continued, ‘the path we’re on, ours is the path that brought us these people: Eleanor Roosevelt, Frida Kahlo, Marie Curie – Ellen DeGeneres! And so many others who the world needs.’

Lydia felt lost, where were they going with this well made Powerpoint and stupid poster? She closed her eyes for a moment.  
‘Ah, but- what- You know what, I got Kira waiting for me at rehearsal.’  
‘Lydia!’, Allison snapped, and Lydia’s eyes widened, her smile completely falling. Allison looked apologetic, but didn’t say anything.   
‘Stiles Stilinski represents one side of evolution, and our side, the side of _education_ and _accomplishments_ ’, Stiles has accomplished a lot, Lydia thought, ‘is the future of civilisation… this is the side where you belong.’    
Lydia frowned. Since when did she became a two dimensional puppet that could only be one thing? She knew for a fact she was more than just a genius. Allison knew it too, so why was she acting like this?

Back on the other side of the school, Stiles was still in the locker room, trying to find a way out of the sticky situation.   
‘Guys’, grimaced Stiles, ‘if you don’t know that I’ll put a 110% of my guts into that game, than you don’t know me.’ Stiles was brought back to that afternoon with Lydia under the fresh leaves and golden hues of the sun.  
Scott startled, ‘But we just thought-‘  
‘No,’ he interrupted, ‘I’m telling you what _I_ think. I thought that you’re my friends. Win together, lose together, teammates.’  
‘But,’ Scott set up a computer.  
‘What are you…?’, he pointed at the laptop.   
‘For future reference, if you fuck up again.’  
Stiles shook his head.   
‘But,’ Scott repeated, ‘suddenly the girl… and the singing.’  
Stiles flailed with his arms, anger getting to him. It they could just _back off_. ‘Man, I’m for the team! I’ve always been for the team!’

All the while, Lydia was seeing exactly what the teammates were seeing through Skype. She frowned, why was this of any importance? And why –  she didn’t understand.

Stiles continued, ‘She’s just someone I met, alright.’ Lydia cocked her head, taking the hit. She ignored the sting in her chest.  
‘The singing thing is nothing – it’s some way to keep my nerves down, I don’t know. It means nothing to me, you’re my guys and this is our team. Lydia is not important.’ Tears started welling up in her eyes. She will not cry. Lydia Martin does not cry. Lydia Martin made people cry, not the other way round. How could he… did all their moments mean nothing? Was it all dust and ashes to him?  
‘I’ll forget about her, I’ll forget the audition, and we’ll go out and get that championship… everyone happy now?’ Stiles ended his hurtful speech, and Allison froze the frame.

‘Behold, lunkhead lacrosse boy.’  
A tear fell down Lydia’s cheek. Damn it! How could a boy make her heart break so much? She was supposed to be ice. _She_ was the heartbreaker.  
Lydia closed her eyes. That was it.  
She liked Stiles Stilinski.

‘So Lydia, we’d love to have you for the scholastic decathlon,’ Allison said, whilst the others got out. The job was done, Lydia realised. Allison wanted to realise Stiles was an idiot, and now she saw it too.   
‘Do you wanna get lunch?’  
Lydia shook her head, a fake smile plastered on her face. She was familiar with this part. Fake it until people think it’s you.   
‘Well,’ Allison’s voice faltered, she probably noticed the tear, ‘we’ll be there if you want to come.’  
She nodded, and Allison left her sitting alone in a classroom. Once the screeching door closed, a sob came out of Lydia red lips.

From the windows, she could see that outside the jocks and cheerleaders were prepping up for Friday. Everyone was there, and if she looked close enough, she could see Stiles talking and laughing with his friends.  
He was unaffected. Carefree.  
She bit her lip, touching the glass, never had she felt so isolated.

*

Lydia went to her locker, completely numb and void of emotion. She wanted to go home, or maybe go to Kira, sing. Or stay in her room, in silence, accompanied by a good book.   
She opened the metal door, and in her peripheral vision she saw Stiles strolling down the hallway.   
Please don’t come near me, she thought, I will scream. Or cry. She didn’t know.  

‘Hey,’ he said cheekily, placing his arm on the locker beside her, ‘how’re you?’  
She didn’t reply, kept her face on her locker and left a curtain of hair to shut him out.  
She felt him hesitate. Good.   
‘Listen, there’s something that I wanna talk about,’ he said. Stiles wanted to rehearse at her house for once, for a change. It might be fun.   
‘And here it is,’ Lydia answered, turning to him whilst clutching a notebook in her hands to keep them from shaking, she had a defiant look on her face and her eyes held fierceness. She was a strong woman.  
‘I know what’s it’s like to be in a pact with your friends – I get it. You got your boys, Stiles. It’s okay. So we’re good.’  
Stiles was confused, what was she talking about? This was not the girl from yesterday.   
‘Good about what? I was gonna talk to you about the, ah, final call-backs.’  
‘I don’t wanna do the call-backs either,’ she quickly said. Lydia didn’t want to hear it from his mouth.  
He shook his head. What?   
‘Who are we trying to impress?’, she continued. He frowned, Lydia might not be an optimist, but she wasn’t a pessimist either. She would fight for her part. What happened to her?   
‘You got your team and I got mine. I’ll do the Scholastic Decathlon and you win the Championship. It’s where we belong… go Cyclones,’ Lydia didn’t believe a single word what she said, but if he believed it, than she would make it easy for him.  
No confrontation. No fights. No drama. No stupid gossip in the hallways. She was _done_.  
She grasped the sheet paper in her hand and gave it to him, which he grabbed, but blinking his eyes profusely.  
Lydia scoffed, he didn’t seem to understand. Allison was right about the Neanderthal.   
‘But I’, Stiles tried once again.   
‘Me neither,’ she replied, without really knowing what she was replying to, she just needed to get out of there. She slammed her locker shut and left him there. Stiles was surrounded by her flowery perfume and vanilla shampoo, yet she was out of his reach.

* * *

 

It was practise in the afternoon. Stiles didn’t feel like doing anything, other than mope in a dark room for two days, and ponder what he had done to upset Lydia that much. What the hell happened? Yesterday they were flirting with each other at his locker, and now she acted like he was a complete stranger.   
‘Hey captain!’, Scott yelled in a cheery voice, yet when he tried to give Stiles a hug, the boy pushed his hands back and started running on the track field, away from his teammates. They didn’t need to see him hold back tears.

At home, he released the anger that had built up since his talk with Lydia. Throwing balls towards the goal, always missing, making him even more agitated.  
After twenty failed tries, he slammed his stick on the ground and laid on the grass, letting a small scream erupt from his lips.

Meanwhile Lydia coursed through the same emotions as Stiles, only more fuelled by sadness than anger. Her mom, who usually could read her daughter very well, had no clue what was going on, and Lydia didn’t say anything, other than “Boy Trouble”.

At school, the two ignored each other, and if they bumped into each other, she actively went around him, whilst he tried to talk to her. It was a tiring process. Why couldn’t he just give up?, she thought, avoiding his eyes in class.   
During lunch she didn’t even sit with Allison, whom she was still mad at. Allison’s pride was a virtue and a sin, as it prevented her from apologising. Her new lunch spot was the library, where she read some dark mythology with an apple or some fries.   
It was hard avoiding Stiles, suddenly the only familiar thing in your life got taken away, and you have to start all over again.   
It was hard not talking to Lydia, Stiles thought, sitting on the lacrosse field, alone. He couldn’t see his friends right now. He missed her laugh. Her jokes. Her smirk. He missed her.

Few days went by, and Stiles had passed his days alone on the roof during lunch. It was silent. It allowed him to think clearly.

‘Hey,’ he suddenly heard. His head whipped up, facing the compassionate, warm face of Scott, followed by Isaac and Brett.

‘Uh… we just had another team meeting,’ said Scott awkwardly, pointing to the general direction of the gym. The two other looked around the greenery in amazement. Stiles wondered for a moment why the science class kept it hidden.   
‘Oh,’ Stiles replied, not knowing what to say, ‘ah, great.’  
‘We had a team meeting about, how we haven’t been acting like a team… I mean us. Not you,’ Scott confessed, a sullen expression on his face. Stiles frowned.  
‘Look,’ Scott edged towards his friend, ‘about the singing thing.’  
God, Stiles didn’t want to hear any of it! Why couldn’t it be in the past already?  
‘Look, Scotty, I don’t even wanna talk about it,’ Stiles grinned, faking content.   
Scott seemed to look right through him, ‘We just want you to know that we’re gonna be there – okay, cheering for you.’  
Stiles didn’t know what to believe anymore. A week ago, Scott was ranting about singing as if it was a satanic, supernatural demon that needed to be defeated.   
‘Huh?’, was the only thing that seemed logical out of his mouth.   
‘Yeah,’ Isaac butted in, ‘if singing is something you want to do, we should be boosting you up, not tearing you down.’  
‘Yeah,’ Scott smiled at Isaac, ‘win or lose, we are teammates. That’s what we’re all about. Even if you turn out to be the worst singer in the world,’ Scott joked, nudging his shoulder. Stiles supressed a smile.  
‘Which,’ Brett said, ‘we don’t know because we haven’t actually heard you sing.’ Brett had a persuasive voice, sure, but one thing was still missing like the corner piece of a puzzle.

‘And you’re not gonna hear me sing, guys,’ Stiles replied in a snide tone, ‘because Lydia won’t even talk to me,’ his voice wavered at the last word, ‘and I don’t know why.’ He avoided their gazes and stared into the wide openness again. Stiles heard Scott exhale as if something was weighing him down.   
‘We do.’   
Stiles frowned. What?

Lydia was hunched over a piece of paper, filled to the brim with an equation she was trying to solve. Something wasn’t adding up, so instead of wasting more paper, she decided to work on it further on the chalk board.   
‘Lydia,’ the girl looked up, an apologetic looking Allison standing in front of her. Lydia frowned, usually the brunette had her science friends behind her. But now she was alone.

‘I was a shitty friend. I was so mean to you, and I’m sorry. I thought that Stiles and the whole singing thing was killing our chances of having you on the scholastic team.’  
Lydia appreciated Allison’s apology. But it didn’t change anything. Stiles still thought of her as unimportant. Something frivolous that was weighing him down.

‘I’m fine. I heard what he said. I’m on the team now. Done.’  
‘No. Not done,’ Allison said determined, taking the pen from Lydia’s hand.   
The brunette sighed, Lydia inspecting the equation. She didn’t need to hear anything about Stiles. She was over it. In a week, she would have her eye on someone else and flirt her way in.

‘We knew that Scott could get Stiles to say things to make you forget about the call-backs. He and I planned it, and we’re embarrassed and sorry.’  
Lydia shook her head, smiling, ‘No one forced Stiles to say anything. It’s okay, we should be preparing for the decathlon anyway, it’s time to move on.’  
‘No, it’s not okay,’ Allison argued, her sculpted brows furrowing, ‘the decathlon is irrelevant but how you feel about me and… Stiles-‘  
‘I don’t like him.’  
‘That’s not – okay. But that’s what really matters.’  
Lydia knew she was stubborn, but at the end of the day, Stiles still said those things, and she didn’t want to be around fake friends. She had enough of those in her old school.   
With that, she gave Allison a pointed glare and picked up her crayon, scratching the formulas on the chalk board.

Allison sighed, before plopping down on the desk. Lydia looked at her in her peripheral vision, but it seemed that Allison was out of words, merely looking for company. Lydia smiled, a peace offering to start fresh.    

*

Stiles knew Lydia’s address from the back of his hands. Because their many singing sessions, he had picked her up numerous times. Although now, he wasn’t exactly invited.   
The boy tugged on his jacket, keeping it closer to his body. It was quite a cold night. He walked up to the door and  knocked it, praying Lydia would open the door, but it seemed that the stars weren’t helping him tonight. Another redhead opened. Her mom, who seemed surprised.

‘Hi ah, miss Martin. I’m Stiles Stilinski.’  
‘Oh… Stiles,’ the older woman looked behind her, mouth slack, ‘Lydia is busy with homework, big test tomorrow,’ he knew there wasn’t a big test tomorrow, ‘so now’s not really a good time.’  
‘But, miss-‘, he tried to get over the threshold anyway, but Natalie blocked him.   
‘I made a mistake,’ he blurted, ‘in… economy. And I would really like Lydia to know that because she copied the answers from me. Could you ah, tell her that I came by?’   
Natalia pursed her lips together, smiling, ‘I will… Stiles. Good night.’   
‘Good night. Thanks.’

The older women closed the door softly behind her, and turned around abruptly to look at her daughter sitting on the stairs. Lydia clutched her knees.  
‘The economy thing was an excuse, right?’  
‘Right.’  
‘You know,’ Natalie walked up to her daughter, brushing a strand of hair out of her face, ‘I would give him another chance.’   
Lydia gazed down, not replying, but stood up from her place and went back to her purple room.

Stiles stared at one of the windows, playing with his phone in his hand. Maybe… no. Too crazy.   
Nonetheless, that’s how Stiles found himself searching her number through his contacts, pressing his thumb on her beautiful, snowy picture.

Lydia’s phone went. Probably Allison asking if her mascara was still there.  
(Answer: yes, it was)  
She stood up and picked up her phone. She stilled. It was Stiles.   
Lydia, she spoke to herself, you are a strong, independent women. You can hear what he has to say, and be diplomatic about it. With that mentality, she picked up the phone.

‘Yes?’, Lydia said curtly.   
‘What you’ve heard the other day, none of that is true. I was sick of Scott riling me up about singing with you, so I said things I knew would shut them up. I didn’t mean any of it.’

Stiles looked up at a room when he saw the silhouette of a girl standing near the window. Bingo.

‘You sounded pretty convincing to me.’ Lydia didn’t believe him yet. She had met these kind of boys before, saying they were sorry and then one minute later you’d find him having sex in a classroom.

‘Listen,’ he exhaled, slowly edging towards the tree near her window. He was nowhere near flexible and he had no idea how to climb and call at the same time, but it was worth a shot.   
‘the guy you met on vacation is way more me than the guy who said those stupid things.’

‘Stiles, this whole singing thing is making the school lose their minds. You said so yourself, everyone’s treating you differently because of it,’ she reasoned him.   
He groaned, ‘Maybe that’s because I don’t only wanna be the lacrosse guy. They just gotta suck it up. That’s not my problem. I’m gonna sing. What about you?’   
She could hear the assertiveness through the receiver, her strong wall slowly crumbling. Did she really want to give him another shot?

‘I don’t know, Stiles.’

Stiles, who nearly died three times in one minute, was finally at her windowsill, looking into the room and seeing her legging clad legs.

‘Well, you need to say yes… because I brought you something.’

She frowned. He – what? She turned around and her eyes widened exponentially at the sight. He was sitting on a tree branch, nearly six metres in the air. She opened her window, looking at him like he’s grown two heads. Stiles gulped.

_This could be the start  
of something new   
it feels so right   
to be here with you_

Lydia rolled her eyes, trying to hide the blush that has risen on her cheeks. She wasn’t prepared to be serenaded by a guy. By Stiles.  

_And now looking in your eyes  
I feel in my heart  
the start of something… _

‘New,’ he ended, staring at her with his god damn gorgeous eyes.   
She wanted to kiss him.

Stiles tugged the sheet music out of his pocket.   
‘It’s a pairs audition.’  
Lydia looked down, nodding. He was an idiot. A goofy, incredibly stupid idiot, who was threatening his life to sing for her. To make her like him again.   
With the tabs of her thumbs she picked it up, and Stiles felt victorious. His heart thrummed in his chest. They were back on good terms.  
Lydia opened her window a bit more, letting him step into her life again.

*

It probably sounded cheesy, but the sun shone a little brighter today, the grass smelled just a little better, and he had a spring in his step. (Which never happened – Stiles never slept.)  
All because of a certain redhead.   
Hell, even lacrosse went better because of her. He even nailed one back shot!  
Lydia didn’t work better, she doesn’t think she can, to be honest. But she does feel better, confidence radiating of off her.   
Although the two had it quite busy – him working extra hard on lacrosse, her doing hours and hours of science – they loved the thrill of running through the halls for their last activity of the day. Singing.

Stiles slowed down, puffin against a locker. She wasn’t there yet.  
A body slammed into him, tugging at his hand to drag him along. Lydia. He beamed at her.

‘You’re late.’  
‘Shut up.’

*

_We’re soarin’  
Flyin’  
There’s not a star in heaven that we can’t reach…_

*

Because Lydia her car had broken down, Stiles had driven her to school. They hadn’t said much, just enjoyed the gentle, warm breeze of the morning car and the hum of his car. It was nice.   
But thunderclouds appeared when they stepped into the hallway and saw a sullen looking Kira staring at the corkboard where the call-back poster hung.   
Stiles walked faster and stopped to see what the problem was.

**Call-back auditions  
rescheduled to Friday  
beginning at 3:30 PM**

‘Call-back’s the same time as the game?’, he exclaimed, full of disbelief.   
‘And the scholastic decathlon,’ Lydia seethed, clenching her fists. Was Blake really that much of a manipulator?

‘Why would they do that?’, Allison asked confused. Stiles turned around to look at her, as lost as she was. He noticed how Scott’s arm slightly caressed Allison’s upper arm, but he didn’t say anything of it. That was not his priority right now.    
‘I bet it was that snake Blake,’ Scott spitted, brows furrowed.   
‘Actually, it’s two snakes,’ Kira silenced them.  
Scott glanced down at her, ‘What do you mean, Kira?’  
She pursed her lips, ‘Blake thinks she is protecting the show, but Malia and Liam set her up!’  
Scott pushed his lacrosse stick in the hands of Stiles, rage in his eyes, ‘Do you know what I’m going to do-‘  
‘Aye, Scotty. Calm down,’ Stiles patted him on the back, handing him back the stick. He was glad he had his loyal friend back, but Scott should’ve left behind his “saviour”-complex.    
‘Nothing. We’re not going to do anything to them,’ Stiles continued, ‘except singing. Maybe.’

Lydia raised his eyebrows at him, ‘This is only going to work if-‘  
‘We all work together,’ Stiles finished her sentence.  
‘We just gotta make a plan,’ he smiled.   
Lydia looked at him with dread. Stiles and planning.  
  
‘Oh God.’

*

**Game Day**

**Scholastic Decathlon Day**

**Call-back Day**

Friday came round, and the boys of the team sneaked into homeroom, all wearing their track suits and Isaac balancing a pie in his hands.   
Lydia and Allison were animatedly talking to each other,

(“You know Archaic Latin?” “What? I got bored of classical Latin.”)

when a pair of hands covered her sight. From the smell and shape, she knew it was Stiles and she smiled.  
Alright. She hadn’t seen this side of him yet.   
Suddenly, a waft of chocolate came through her nose and she licked her lips. What were they doing?   
She saw again and came face to face with a beauty: a Pi pie! Allison laughed wholeheartedly, earning a grin from Scott.   
‘Isaac, did you made this?’, Allison asked, amazed.   
He nodded proudly.   
‘Thank you!’, Lydia thanked him, but before she could dip her thumb in the frosting, Allison dragged her to the white board. Lydia suppressed her smug smile.  
‘Tada!’, Lydia said, grinning at all the numbers and letters that needed to resemble a theory on how to throw the perfect ball into the goal.    
‘Oh, it’s an…’, Stiles’ voice faltered, numbers blurring in front of his eyes. A giant pie for a math problem? Not really a fair trade.   
Allison laughed, turning the board around to reveal a colourful poster.

**GO CYCLONES!**

The boys quickly got outside in a specific formation, going into the next surprise. Miss Blake stilled in front of the door, squinting her eyes.

« G O  
D R A M A  
C L U B EXCLAMATION POINT! »

, one boy at a time yelled. Lydia saw that Malia and Liam even grinned at that.

*

The final bell rang, and loud squealing voices and squeaking tennis shoes riled through the hallways. Excited humming and buzzing of students and adults. Practically the whole school ran to the field for a good seat, whilst a few parents made their way through the front doors to go to the science wing. Malia and Liam went to the auditorium in a hurry to obtain enough time to get ready.

Stiles heard the cheers and shouts from the people whilst he was in the locker room. He was alone, the others already warming up.   
Stiles hadn’t had a panic attack in a very long time, but right now, the stress to play well and win and achieve a scholarship and sing, was too high. He clenched his hands into balls, sight becoming blurry. Heart started pounding faster.  
Focus on your breathing, Stiles. Think of the stars, the night, the endless night. The air, the-  
Stiles’ mantra was interrupted by a knock on the door, and he jerked his head to the direction of the sound. His dad.   
The boy honestly wasn’t surprised his father got in here, his kid was the “star player” after all.

‘How you feelin’?’, he asked, standing a few respective meters from him. Ever since Stiles snapped at him, things had been… tense at home. Dinners were silent, the slamming of doors was harder, but this seemed like a peace offering to Stiles.   
He breathed in deeply in and out of the nose, unclenching his hands.

‘Nervous.’   
‘Stiles?’, his dad questioned, sitting next to him. His father had seen him go through episodes like this numerous times. He’d seen all the symptoms, all the signs.   
‘Panic attack?’   
He gulped, ‘Almost.’   
Noah Stilinski slid an arm around his son, and Stiles placed his head on chest, like he used to do when he was nine.   
‘You know what I want from you today?’, he whispered.   
‘Championship?’, Stiles asked, but he knew that was the answer.

‘No… what I want for you is to have fun.’   
Stiles lifted his head, staring at his dad. _Fun_. He hadn’t said those words associated with lacrosse in  very long time. It was always: get better, go faster, work harder.   
But now, he needed to have fun.   
Stiles smiled.   
‘I know all about the pressure,’ the sheriff continued, ‘and probably too much had come from me. But what I really want, is to see my son having the time of his life, playing the game we both love. That Claudia loved.’   
Stiles gulped, keeping the tears at bay.   
‘You give me that, and I’ll sleep with a smile on my face no matter how the score goes down. Make your mom happy.’   
Stiles looked down, nodding, his beating heart slowing down.  
‘Thanks dad.’  
Noah gave him a sympathetic nudge on the knee, before standing up and leaving the cold locker room.  
Stiles exhaled, it was time.

On the other side of school, people have seated themselves in front of the science. The scholastic decathlon. Lydia felt Allison next to her shake, so she grasped her hand, squeezing it. Allison looked down at her, smiling gratefully.  
‘Thank you,’ she mouthed.   
The opposing team shook hands and they all took their respective seats.

After a quick pep talk, the Cyclones got out of the corridors, running and jumping onto the grass as everyone around them roared with excitement. Stiles loved the adrenaline that came with it. Everything slowed down, he became alert, every fibre in his body was on fire.     

The referee had given Lydia and the boy from the other team the start of an equation on a piece of paper, and they had to solve it as fast as they could. Lydia took the card, her mind puzzling at pieces to fit together.   
She looked at the referee, who held up his hand as a start sign and… go!  
The redhead quickly turned around to the white board, her long braid whipping against her shoulder. Without thinking about it, the numbers spilled out of her onto the board. Algebra was her first language.

The game started, the team running up the field in their gear. Stiles flattened his 24 jersey, smirking at the opposing team.  
Let’s do this shit.   
The ball flew into the air, and their team quickly caught it, immediately throwing it to another member before the player got smashed to the ground.

Lydia wrote as fast as she could, all the while scared she had gotten unreadable. She felt her wrist cramp as she wrote the solution. She clicked the cap onto her sharpie and ran to the bell, locking her time. The referee stood up, as he went to see if there were any mistakes. Lydia crossed her arms, examining the man. If he lost the moustache he’d definitely be a lot more handsome.   
‘Beacon Hills High won this round!’, he exclaimed, pointing at their group. The small crowd cheered, and Lydia’s team celebrated their victory. Energy was coursing through Lydia’s veins as her eyes flitted to the clock. Every minute counted!

As a few of their teammates made the concoction, Allison opened her slim laptop, hacking into the school’s system. Lydia was surprised when she found out Allison liked hacking in her free time. A hunting, hacking genius with a great sense of style. Truly one of a kind.   
Lydia understood code, so she knew exactly what Allison was doing. She smirked, this was going to be interesting.

The electronic clock and score started acting up as they played, the headlights falling on and off. Stiles, that had the ball in his stick, stopped and urged everyone to do as well.  
Well done, Allison.  
Without anyone noticing, he ran off the field.  
   
As Allison said the job was done, their concoction they purposefully ruined, started to smell and smoke. Lydia scrunched up her nose.  
‘Oh, no, go, go, go!’, Allison yelled, ushering her teammates out.   
‘Everyone out!’, the referee yelled, whilst people were screaming. Lydia fled the room first, sprinting through the halls.

‘Congratulations to all, the cast list will be po-‘, miss Blake said as Stiles flew into the room, almost tumbling over several chairs.   
‘No wait!’, he yelled, running to the stage.   
Lydia got through a different doorway. There was an entire zoo in her stomach.   
‘We can sing!’, he pointed out, jumping on stage, Lydia following suit.   
‘Miss Blake, please,’ Lydia begged, clenching her hands together. Was this woman really that stubborn?  
‘No. Rules are rules! A-‘  
Suddenly, the drum of footsteps and the hum of people talking echoed throughout the auditorium, bouncing of the walls. Miss Blake shut up, frowning as the large amounts of people filled the theatre, taking every spot that was left.  
Lydia’s eyes widened.  
Oh, no. This wasn’t part of the plan.

‘We’ll be happy to do it again, miss Blake,’ Erica butted in, impressed by the mass of the public.  
‘I – don’t – know – what’s going on here,’ the woman stuttered, fixing her glasses, ‘but like I said, it’s far too late and you do not have a pianist.’   
‘Well,’ Liam grinned, ‘that’s showbiz.’  
‘We’ll sing without a piano!’, Stiles prompted, right as Kira appeared next to him, smoothing out her leather jacket.  
‘No, you won’t. Pianist here, miss Blake.’  
Malia scowled at her, bending over the petite girl, ‘You really don’t want to do this.’   
‘Oh yes, I really do.’  
Stiles raised his eyebrows at Kira’s glaring comment. She had a fire inside of her she wasn’t aware of.

Malia’s mouth dropped, and miss Blake’s eyes lingered on Kira’s retreating back, ‘Now _that’s_ showbiz.’   
The blonde groaned frustrated, stomping of stage with Liam in tow.

It was now Stiles, Lydia and Kira. He gave her a mic, putting it in her trembling hands. Her eyes, frightened like a deer in headlights, froze as she saw the people, staring at them expectantly.  
Stiles glanced at her worried. Was she okay? Maybe if the song began, she’d relax.  
Lydia tried easing herself, but the people kept murmuring, and she continuously heard her name drop.  
He gave a sign to Kira to start, and the first, sweet tones filled the auditorium. People still obnoxiously talked, pointing at the rigid Lydia. Stiles understood what was happening, making Kira stop the piano.

Lydia came towards Stiles, shaking her head. ‘I can’t do it, Stiles, not with all these people staring at me,’ she whispered.   
She couldn’t, truly. This wasn’t in front of strangers, of just with Kira or in Stiles’ bedroom. This was with all her classmates, with teachers, with gossipers and bullies. Her confidence slowly crumbled down.

He took her hand, a reassuring caress on her palm.  
‘Hey, hey, look at me. Just me. Just like the first time we sang together,’ he replied, his whisper barely audible, ‘remember?’  
She nodded, how could she ever forget.  
‘Like kindergarten,’ he finished, trying to lighten the tensed mood. She gulped, taking a deep breath.   
Stiles signalled at Kira to begin again.

The lights slowly faded, and the backdrop descended from the ceiling, giving them a city skyline filled with sparkling stars.   
It set the mood, Lydia realised, as she stared into his whiskey eyes.   
Stiles couldn’t take his eyes of her, she was beautiful in the blue lights. He was transported back to New Year’s Eve.  
He took a deep breath.  
Time to show he was more than lacrosse. More than sports.  
Just a boy.

_We're soarin', flyin'  
there's not a star in heaven  
that we can't reach_

She opened her mouth, still looking at Stiles. She knew that one glance at the crowd would be the end of the song and the end of her social life. Most definitely the latter.

_If we're trying  
so we're breaking free_

Stiles tugged his lips downwards fondly. He always got entranced by her voice.

_You know the world can see us  
in a way that's different than who we are_

_Creating space between us  
'Til we're separate hearts_

This was the hardest part: harmonising well, hearing each other’s pitch. Lydia loved the challenge though.

_But your faith it gives me strength  
strength to believe…_

Lydia smiled. She can do this.   
Stiles broke loose.

_We're breakin' free!_

_We're soarin'  
flyin'_

The crowd started to clap along to the beat, as Stiles completely used his vocal cords to the fullest. Lydia let go of his gaze, looking at the cheering crowd.

_There's not a star in heaven  
that we can't reach  
if we're trying  
so we're breaking free  
we're breakin' free_

Lydia ad-libbed, something that Kira had encouraged her to do. She was scared to do it at rehearsals, afraid of ruining the flow, but now she freely let herself harmonise with the piano.

They separated, Stiles enjoying the beat of the claps and the steady metre of the piano. Meanwhile Lydia tugged of her lab coat on the other side of the stage and chugged it in the coulisses. She had picked her outfit with care this morning. A pretty, blue dress with elbow length sleeves and a high low skirt. Her brown boots and braid complimented it well.

_Can you feel it building  
like a wave the ocean just can't control _

Stiles did a moonwalk, feeling completely idiotic and liberated at the same time.

_Connected by a feeling  
oh, in our very souls  
Very soul, oh-oh_

Lydia swung her hips, feeling the adrenaline pulsating through her. Stiles was stunned for a second. The free spirited smile on her face suited her well.

_Rising 'til it lifts us up_

They met each other in the middle.  
_  
so everyone can see…  
We're breakin' free!_

They sang the chorus, again and again, and the bridge. Stiles’ favourite part. She twirled and danced and ran, her skirt billowing. He flew around her, took her hand, shot his hands into the air.   
Lacrosse felt great, but singing right here, felt like an ephemeral joy. Something to grasp onto for as long as you can before the magic was gone.  
Lydia felt euphoric. Not only did she overcome her stage fright, but she enjoyed every single second of it.  
Every note, every sound, every breath.   
The standing ovation was overwhelming as they sang their hearts out. It felt revolutionary. Lydia thought back on her history classes, going out of the norm always lead up to a revolution.   
The jock and the science kid singing.

The piano tones became soft, and their voices followed, capturing the intimate ending.

_You know the world can see us  
In a way that's different than who we  
are_

The last tone echoed through the room.

The crowd went wild.

They roared, yelled their names, shouted compliments.   
Lydia exhaled, releasing all the tension from her body. She can’t believe she just did that.   
The two sinuated to Kira, who, although beaming, gave the crowd a humble bow.   
Yet she, Stiles thought, deserved all the praise.   
The boy glanced at Lydia, who was radiating like the sun. Her hair burned like fire in the lights, and her eyes were an electric green.

He bend over to her ear, ‘You’re so pretty, I could kiss you right now!’  
She stilled, ‘Do not kiss me.’  
He hesitated, yet only found a certain longing in her eyes. The boy quickly pecked her cheek, smelling her fruity perfume on her silky white skin.   
Lydia blushed as the crowd cheered harder. The girl could already hear Allison yelling, ‘I told you so!’  
Stiles, even though he didn’t see Scott, could hear him say, ‘Fucking finally.’  
He grinned cheekily at her, ‘Did it anyway.’

*

They won. They won, motherfuckers!  
Stiles was surrounded by his teammates, jumping on top of one another. He laughed wholeheartedly, getting to his dad.   
‘I’m so proud of you,’ the man whispered, before getting dragged away by coach Finstock.  
He abruptly felt a pair of small hands on his shoulders and he turned around quickly, knowing exactly who it was. He grabbed Lydia by the waist, finally confident enough to do so.   
‘Congratulations, Stiles!’, she yelled over the noise. She had changed into a burgundy floral dress, he noticed. Stiles smiled, Lydia did that for him.

‘Oh, what about your team?!’   
‘We won too!’

He exhaled relieved, taking her closer. He’d been waiting for this since New Year.  
But now, with red confetti in her hair and joy in her eyes, she was even prettier than when she was between snow and fireworks.  
Scott blocked them. Stiles couldn’t be mad though, they won!  
‘Yo, team voted you for captain next year, man.’  
‘Yeah, very important right now,’ Stiles replied sarcastically.  
Lydia suddenly got tugged away by Allison.   
‘Scott just asked me out!’, Allison yelled excitedly, and Lydia was ecstatic for her. Even in her glum phase, she’d seen the chemistry between them. She wasn’t dumb.   
‘Well, congratulations,’ Malia  interrupted them, Liam smiling, ‘I get to be the understudy in case someone gets sick so… break a leg.’ Lydia stayed quiet. Did Malia just wish she had an accident?  
Malia laughed, genuine for the first time round, ‘It means good luck.’ She walked away and Lydia raised her eyebrows in surprise to Allison, who mirrored her expression. Was Malia just… nice?

‘Lydia!’  
She turned around, Stiles running in a steady pace towards her.  
‘Wha-‘  
The boy smashed his lips on hers, grasping her by the waist as she threw her hands around his neck, burying her hands in his soft, brown hair. She thanked her past self for deciding to wear heels this morning, because God he was tall.   
She sighed into the kiss, slowly retracting herself from his sweet, pink lips. She didn’t realise how much she had yearned for his touch.   
When Stiles kissed her, he had prepared to dip his toes into the water, see what is was like to kiss Lydia, the girl he had crushed on since they one.

But instead, he fell.

Hard. 


End file.
